


You Are My Sunshine

by susiephalange



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 05:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: In the morning, you’d do your best to get out from the covers, and sliding on your slippers, put the kettle on. It was a sneak act because you no longer lived alone (take that, senior-year yearbook editors who claimed you’d be last to find love). It wasn’t just you and a pet, no, it was you, and your boyfriend, and the gorgeous monster of a dog called Max.A slice of the life you share with Frank Castle, and his dog.





	You Are My Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from my tumblr, from an anonymous user who asked for more Frank. I was having a cup of tea today, and the plot just came to me! Hope you like it, Nonny!

In the morning, you’d do your best to get out from the covers, and sliding on your slippers, put the kettle on. It was a sneak act because you no longer lived alone (take that, senior-year yearbook editors who claimed you’d be  _last to find love_ ). It wasn’t just you and a pet, no, it was you, and your boyfriend, and the gorgeous monster of a dog called Max. You had met him in your favourite coffee shop in the city, when they’d accidentally given you his order, and he yours. He wasn’t too pleased to get the cup with extra marshmallows, and you didn’t much like the idea of taking your coffee without anything in it to make it pleasant. But when you’d swapped the paper cups, you also swapped numbers, and well, the rest was history.

Flicking the switch on the kettle, you move the clutter on the kitchen bench as to sit on it, and stare out at the impending sunrise. Before meeting Frank, you had been nearly religiously devout to sleeping in, and he had the whole military thing of getting up, making the bed, and eating before dawn thing still in his head. But something clicked, and now he was the one snuggling down in the covers, and you were flicking through the TV on mute or flicking through your News Feed for the latest on the  _NYC Heroes_  app.

On the street, there’s a plethora of people up already for the day – the paperboy, riding a skateboard with cheap earphones in, joggers wearing a spandex sort of pants you’ll never get the hang of, mothers and their prams pushing their way toward the park a block down the way. Up in the apartment, it’s quiet, apart from the boiling kettle, and the occasional snore from either Frank or Max.

If it wasn’t a week day, you’d do all in your power to crawl back into the bed and snuggle against Frank. But it was a week day, and you had work, and your work wasn’t lenient to being late. You pour your tea into a travel mug, and start making a coffee for Frank.

Slipping from the bench, you cross the living room, and flick the little TV on. Frank brought the box home a couple of months ago, after a huge raid with the local bike gang. He called it a ‘celebration present’, but you suspected that he’d bought it because it was easier than hooking up the police radio device. You also suspected it was used during the day when he didn’t have anything on, because when you come home, the channel is left on the ones that play soppy soap operas.

But as the TV warms up (it’s one of the old ones, which sometimes is out of tune and needs a good thump, and has red and blue and green pixels) it shows the weatherman standing in front of a chart filled with little sun pictures.

“I’ll never know why that guy is always smiling so damn early in the morning,” the rumble of the sleep-addled voice of Frank Castle remarks. Glancing up, you see he’s behind you, his hands grasping the top of the sofa. “G’morning, sunshine.” He gives you a wry smile.

It was never anything else, always  _sunshine_. You weren’t sure if it was something Frank said to every lady he came across, or maybe it was the name he called his wife before the incident, but you were sunshine. And it stuck. Never  _beautiful,_ or  _sexy_  or  _babe_. Sunshine. You guessed it was because anyone else could be those things, could be beautiful, could be sexy, could be his baby. Maybe he called you it because there was only one sun. Or maybe it was just a word. Frank Castle killed people for a living, not complimented girlfriends.

“Hey,” you smiled.

Reaching up, guided his collar down, so you could kiss him from the couch. But just as he seemed to be getting into it, you remembered that today was a week day, and you had work. “Hey –,” Frank protested, but you slipped out from the position, and back to the bedroom, where the closet was. “I wasn’t done kissin’ you.”

You laugh. “You take too long to kiss, Frank. Besides, I’ve got work.”

There was a little office in the local High School with a plaque on the door with your name on the door, a script that you had fought tooth and nail to get. As the school’s head of literature department, you had a glorified title, taught English to bored high schoolers and after dark, ESOL to adult immigrants and refugees who had come to America for a better life. You weren't a hero, not like Frank, not like Daredevil, or even Spider-Man. You just did your part to make the city a better place. Make kids feel safe. Made adults understand the life they'd signed up for here in the city. 

“Call sick,” he tells you, following you to the closet. He grips the door, leaning, watching you as you change from your pyjamas to something a little more work appropriate. “It’s coming into flu season, I’m sure they won’t think nothing of it.”

You laugh. “I’m the head of English! I can’t call sick.” You grab a shirt, but just as you put it on, you see there’s a little stain on the collar. Defiantly not professional. “Don’t tell me the Punisher is being lovesick today. Is this an anniversary of something, or…?”

Frank’s head shakes. “Just want to spend some time with you.”

“I made you some coffee before you got up,” you distract him, motioning to the kitchen. “Should be strong enough for you by now.”

In the time that it takes for the bear-like pre-coffee Frank Castle to amble away to retrieve his drink, you choose on a greyscale polka dot blouse, blazer, and a pair of black slacks. You’re just about to shrug the blazer on when Frank is back, half the black coffee skulled when he makes a noise.

“How is it that you look like some kind of sexy librarian fantasy?” He asks, taking a sip.

You give a dry laugh, buttoning up the jacket. “Must be you projecting, Castle. I’m not even a librarian, talk to me when you’re cohesive  _after_ your coffee.” Grabbing a pair of black kitten heels, you try to put them on standing, and taking defeat, take a seat on Frank’s display of pristine bed-making. “Is this too much black?” you ask him, and rising, do a twirl.

He shakes his head, a little smile. “Can never have too much black.”

Your eyes roll. “It’s a good thing I love you, Frank Castle,” you test him, a jesting smile upon your lips. “I’ll see you this night for takeout and trashy TV. Unless you’ve got other plans?” You put out in the air, playing the card you’d never had the real opportunity to play before you settled down with Frank.

“Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t need me tonight.” He leans forward, and pecks you on the cheek. “Have a good day, sunshine.”

You beam. “Love you too, Frank.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
